Page 51 of Dirty Roxie
Daria
TEN MINUTES BEFORE
I wait until Ronan goes to answer the door for room service, then move in to give Quinn a hug. Because regardless of how she’s feeling and whether or not I agree with her, she’s my best friend. And she’s been through a terrible ordeal, one I don’t think she was equipped to handle.
Not that anyone is ready to be abducted and beaten. But there are people who can fare better in such a situation than others. So, I swallow my pride. For the sake of my friend.
“I’m sorry, Q. I love you. You know that. I’m just on edge with everything going on, everyone getting hurt. This”—I hold up my arm with the cast on it—“not having the use of both arms is driving me nuts.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I love you too.” Quinn leans in against my chest and hugs me tight. “I get that you’re upset too. Or at least I try to get it.”
“I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, that I didn’t get you out of there—”
“We,” Roxie interjects.
I turn to her. “We, what?”
“That we didn’t get you out of there sooner. It was a group effort. We all could have done better.”
I nod at Roxie. “If you want to take the blame, go for it.”
She smiles back at me.
Weirdo.
“Fine,” I continue telling Quinn. “I’m sorry we didn’t get you out of there sooner.”
Quinn takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”
“I’ve got dinner all set up,” Ronan says as he steps back into the room and takes in the group hug. “Oh, are we all better now?”
“We are.” It’s weird having him as an alliance when I’ve thought of him as an adversary for so long. At first, we had no choice but to trust one another and I’m sure we were both wary of that. But I respect the man, and I think that sentiment is returned. I also think he’s valuable to have on my side.
Quinn grabs her fruity drink and takes a seat on the sofa, grabbing a french fry from the plate on the coffee table. “Wow. Who would have thought one crazy idea would cause so much trouble, huh?”
“Agreed.” Roxie takes a long pull on her beer. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“When I first came up with the idea to get myself kidnapped so that Reed could rescue me. I guess I just figured I’d be gone for a few hours, tucked away in a nice comfy house somewhere. And he would be my knight in shining armor, riding in on a white horse to save the day. I never thought there would be real trouble.” Quinn gestures to the cast on my arm as I try to process what she’s just said.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I want to ask her to repeat herself. At the same time, I want what she just said to be a joke. Or a figment of my imagination. Maybe even my brain is playing tricks on me. But my god, please don’t let it be that Quinn had herself kidnapped. She can’t be that dense. Can she?
“When you say you came up with the idea toget yourself kidnapped, what do you mean by that?” I try to keep my tone neutral, but it comes out menacing.
I look to Roxie and Ronan, who remain frozen. I’m sure as perplexed as I am over how Quinn could do something so catastrophically stupid.
“Well, Reed disappeared without a word,afterwe spent the night together. I figured he was undercover with the traffickers. I was hurt and angry. Everyone had something important to do. You guys wouldn’t let me help anymore with solving the case. I was helpful at David’s engagement party, you said so yourself.” She points to me when she says this. “Andat his wedding. So, I figured I could infiltrate the gang, find Reed, and we could catch the bad guys from the inside out.” She looks so proud of herself. As though her actions were commendable. Or even rationale.
It’s like I don’t even know who she is. She’s been blaming us for not rescuing her sooner when it was her idea to be abducted in the first place? What the fuck did she think would happen?
I pour myself another glass of vodka and drink it straight down, wiping my mouth with the back of my good hand, before settling into my chair. “Mack got shot.”
“I know. But does it count since it was Reed who did it?”
“The bullet entering his body and nearly rupturing his clavicle? Is that the one that doesn’t count?” I try to keep my tone even and measured, not raise my voice. Because part of me is certain this still can’t be real. None of it. I mean, I love Quinn for her silliness and naïveté, for her ability to always see the good in people, and even though she can be a bit of a bubblehead, I’ve always considered her to be intelligent where and when it counts.
Until now.
These are two major things that she clearly did not think about before acting or speaking.
